


Noise In The Night

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Comfort Sex, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Fix-It, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: Harry awakes, hair standing on end. But what he finds is not what he expected.





	Noise In The Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missgoldy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missgoldy/gifts).

Harry startled awake, his heart in his chest. Something had woken him. A noise.

He sat up slowly in his bunk, looking around, straining his eyes to try to see through the dark. He had been asleep only a minute, or so it seemed, leaving Hermione to keep watch. They still weren’t on the best terms, Harry still upset about his broken wand, even if a voice in the back of his mind kept telling him it had been an accident.

But so much was wrong. So much was lost. Ron had left. Hedwig had died. They’d had no luck on the Horcruxes. And now this.

The noise came again.

This time Harry slipped out of bed entirely. From what he could see, nothing looked wrong, but his whole body was on edge.

He wished desperately he had a wand to use as he slipped through the tent, every nerve come to life inside him.

And then he saw it. The source of the noise.

Relief and fear rushed through him simultaneously. He hurried the rest of the way to the tent’s entrance, dropping to his knees beside Hermione.

She had fallen asleep, slumped against the edge of the tent, and she appeared to be in the throes of a nightmare. Moans were slipping from her open mouth as she shook slightly.

Harry reached out a hand, placing it on her shoulder. “Hermione,” he said softly. “Hermione.”

He shook her again. “Hermione!”

Her eyes popped open. She stared at Harry for a second, and then she did something Harry hadn’t expected — she burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Hermione.” Harry found himself shaking his head. “It’s not your fault,” he said, not even understanding what she was apologizing for.

“We’re in such a mess,” she moaned.

Now he understood. And he felt guilt surge through his body. None of this mess was her fault. Not really anyway.

“A mess I made,” Harry said.

“Because of me,” she said miserable.

“No, not because of you. You’re the best thing about this whole mess.”

She blinked at him. “I am?”

He met her eyes. He hadn’t meant for those particular words to slip out of his mouth, but as her question hung in the air, he realized the answer. “You are.”

She stared at him still, her eyes wide and full of tears, more drops of liquid sliding down her cheeks, and every angry thought he’d had the past couple days flew out of Harry’s mind. He leaned forward, placed his lips against hers and whispered “You are.”

Her hands went around his neck as her lips moved against his. And then he was maneuvering them slightly, laying her down in the entrance of the tent, and his hands were under her jumper, sliding over her breasts.

She gasped at the contact, and he suddenly realized what he was doing. He stopped, pulling back a little.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

He hadn’t even realized this is what he had wanted. Sure, he had thought about it a few times here and there over the years, and maybe a couple times he’d woken up from dreams of the two of them together, but he hadn’t ever really considered it a possibility.

But now, with her lying beneath him, his hands still touching her warm flesh, he knew the truth.

Hermione was watching him intently, but as he waited, she nodded. “More than okay,” she said, and she pulled him toward her, their mouths meeting again as he hands resumed their activities. He slid his fingers underneath the fabric of her bra, touching her breasts, sliding his thumbs over her nipples as the book he had found in the Weasley twins’ room last summer had described.

Hermione moaned into Harry’s mouth, her back arching slightly, and Harry kissed her harder. But he wanted more. 

He pulled back a little, dropping his hands to the hem of her jumper. She understood, sitting up just enough that he could pull it over her head and discard it on the floor beside them. Her bra came next, his fingers fumbling just slightly with the clasp, until he got it off her and also tossed it aside.

He stared down at her, her skin pale in the moonlight. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

And then her hands made their way toward the button of her jeans and she was sliding them off her legs, her knickers following soon after, and every thought, as well as every bit of oxygen in the air around him, disappeared as Harry stared at her.

“Is this okay?” Hermione asked softly, and all he could do was snog her again. They fell backward together as Harry slipped his hand down her body, over her breasts, her stomach and then, there, between her legs. He stroked gently, as the book had instructed, and Hermione wiggled against him and made a noise that he had never heard before but that he wanted to hear again. And again.

He stroked her again, slipping a finger inside her as the book had shown him, and this time, the moan she made went straight to his own groin.

If Harry could have thought about it, he would have realized that for the first time since they had escaped Bill and Fleur’s wedding all those months before, there was no thought of Horcruxes and Voldermort or death and betrayal in his mind. There was only him and Hermione and the way she was falling apart beneath his fingers.

And that was the best feeling in the world.


End file.
